Chapter Fifteen
A s they closed up the restaurant for the night, Gia asked her mother, who was wiping down the bar, “Why didn’t you tell everyone the real reason for the celebration tonight?”
Eva stopped restocking the wine to share a glance with their mother.
“I don’t believe you two. You’re keeping another secret from me, aren’t you? Let me guess, Cami has convinced Willow to move to LA? No?” Gia said when they rolled their eyes. “Then what is it? Because I know you two, and you’re definitely keeping something from me.”
“Come sit. We’ll have a digestif.” Her mother motioned for her to take a seat at the bar. Eva retrieved a bottle of sambuca and the coffee beans.
“This should be good if I need a drink before you tell me,” Gia grumbled as she left the cloth on the table she’d been wiping down and walked to the bar.
They closed at nine p.m. on Sundays, so it was still relatively early.
Flynn wanted to get together later tonight for the talk she’d been putting off.
It looked like this would be the night for her to hear things she didn’t want to hear.
She had a feeling Flynn was going to give her an ultimatum—either they date out in the open or it was over.
No matter that just thinking about ending things with him made her cry, she couldn’t date him openly. Even if he agreed to keep their relationship a secret, it might be best if they end it anyway, before someone got hurt. She was almost positive that someone would be her.
“You knew I was going to announce I was reinstating Sunday family dinners tonight,” her mother said.
“I did,” Gia agreed, “and I’m as happy about it as everyone else.”
Eva poured them each a glass of sambuca, adding three coffee beans to the top of each drink to symbolize health, happiness, and prosperity.
Carmen pulled out the barstool beside Gia. “I know you even better than you know me, cara, and how you felt about your sister joining us for dinner every Sunday was written all over your beautiful face.”
“Eva has dinner with us almost every night.” They typically shared a plate of the night’s special mid-dinner-service, but Gia knew Eva wasn’t the sister her mother was referring to.
She’d hoped they could go a few hours without talking about Cami.
Just because Gia knew she had to figure out a way to make peace with her baby sister didn’t mean she wanted to think or talk about it now.
She needed time to work herself up to it.
Eva snorted and lifted her glass. “Salut.”
It sounded more like good luck . Their mother continued looking at Gia with an eyebrow raised.
“All right, so the idea of breaking bread with Cami once a week doesn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies. But you’ll be happy to know that I’m prepared to work on my issues with her.”
“Bene, and my la dolce vita reminders will help with this, I’m sure.”
“Me? You seriously think I need to be reminded how to live la dolce vita? Come on, Ma. Who enjoys the simple things in life more than I do? Who loves their wine and food more than me? Who sees the beauty in every moment and captures it on canvas?” She pointed at herself.
“Yeah, me. Now, my daughter? I’m not sure six weeks is enough for you to remind her how to live la dolce vita.
But I’m here to do my part, because I agree with you.
Sage needs to make some big changes in her life, or she’ll risk burning out again. ”
Her mother nodded, carefully swirling the coffee beans in her glass. “I agree, there are some aspects of living la dolce vita that you do very well, but there are some things you’ve forgotten.”
Gia gave Eva a can you believe this? look. “And what would they be, Ma?”
“Going out, socializing, having fun, dancing, having sex.”
Gia’s sambuca went down the wrong way, and she choked. She couldn’t meet her sister’s eyes. “I’ve been busy. We all have with our new venture.”
Over the past two years, they’d had several business opportunities open up to them thanks to their La Dolce Vita channel and her niece Lila’s savvy marketing skills.
Last fall, they’d been approached by a number of grocers on Cape Cod who wanted to carry their sauces.
Gia had designed the labels, and the three of them had each created their own signature sauce.
Carmen’s was a traditional marinara, Eva’s a spicy tomato cream, and Gia’s a basil pesto.
Their sales in the past six months had exceeded their wildest dreams. The news they’d planned to announce tonight—along with reinstating Sunday dinners with the family—was that their specialty sauces were going to be carried by national grocery chains in both the United States and Canada.
Her mother smiled. “Si, and another person will lighten the load. I didn’t want to share the news until we agreed so we’ll tell everyone at dinner next Sunday. That way Lila and her family will be there to celebrate with us too.” She raised her glass. “To your sister joining La Dolce Vita.”
Gia stared at her mother, her glass hanging in midair. Her mother clinked it anyway. Obviously, she’d taken Gia’s stunned silence as an agreement.
“It’s only fair that Cami be a part of our venture,” her mother continued.
“I want my three daughters represented in La Dolce Vita’s brand, so we’ll get her working on her sauce this week.
This will also help you to mend fences with your sister and go back to the relationship you once had with her.
Because you are not truly living la dolce vita if you don’t spend time with the ones you love, your family.
All your family, Gia, including your sister. ”
Carmen knocked back her sambuca, set the glass on the bar, leaned across to pat Eva’s cheek, and then patted Gia’s before sliding off the barstool.
“Now I’m going to take my own advice and make love with my handsome fiancé.
Ciao, bellas,” she said, hips swaying as she strutted to the doors off the deck in her four-inch heels.
Eva sighed. “I want to be just like her when I’m seventy-one.”
“She’s seventy-four, and you will be.”
As the door closed behind Carmen, she practically ran up the stairs to her apartment.
“No wonder Bruno looks happy all the time.” Gia made a face. “I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“I’m not surprised that you did. I caught you sharing hot and sultry looks with Flynn at the dinner tonight. So did James.”
“He didn’t, did he?”
“Afraid so. And Mr. Observant caught a few other things.”
“Such as? Wait. If it’s about Cami, don’t tell me. I refuse to talk about her tonight, especially after what Ma just sprang on us without even giving us a say.” She looked at her sister. “It wouldn’t matter, would it? You agree with her.”
Eva came around the bar, carrying the bottle of sambuca, and slid onto the barstool beside her. “I do.” She topped up Gia’s glass. “And a few weeks from now, so will you, and you know why?”
“I have no idea, so please, enlighten me,” she said, taking a sip of her drink as she watched the red-and-purple-painted sky begin to darken outside the restaurant’s front window.
A car slowed and parked alongside the lane.
The windows were tinted, and she couldn’t make out the driver, but for some reason it gave her an unsettled feeling.
“What’s wrong?” Eva asked.
“I don’t know, just something about the car parked across from the restaurant. I’m probably overreacting because of the man Sage was telling us about. You know, the one who’d been asking about us at the Smoke Shack the night Alice died.”
For the most part, the attention they’d received from La Dolce Vita’s social media channels had been positive and fabulous for business, but they’d had a few issues with overzealous male fans this past year. She slid off the barstool and headed for the front door.
“What are you doing?”
Before Gia had a chance to respond, Eva joined her at the door with her phone clutched in her hand. “If you’re going to confront them, you don’t do it alone.”
Gia unlocked the door. “It’s not like I plan on chasing them down the road. I just want them to know we’re aware they’re there and”—she raised her phone—“have their license plate.”
Gia opened the door and walked outside. Her sister followed her onto the walkway. “Maybe they’re on the phone,” Eva said. “Or there’s two of them and they’re making out.”
The window lowered but not enough to see the person inside.
They were alone and not on the phone and clearly watching them.
“You’ve got two minutes to move on or I’m calling the cops,” Gia yelled, moving down the walkway as she took a photo of whoever was behind the wheel.
It had the desired effect. They started the engine and began driving away…
but so slowly that it felt like a statement in and of itself.
They didn’t care. They wanted them to know they were there.
The car stopped halfway down the road. It was the perfect position for Gia to get a photo of the license plate, only it didn’t do her any good—the plate was covered.
It felt intentional on the driver’s part. Like they were laughing at them.
She turned to see her sister on the phone. “Who are you calling?”
“James.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary? I’ll drive you home if you’re nervous,” she said as they walked back inside the restaurant.
It didn’t matter what Gia thought. Her sister’s husband clearly thought they were in danger. As they found out five minutes later when an SBPD cruiser pulled up in front of the restaurant with sirens blaring and lights flashing.
“Madonna santa, Eva! This is crazy. We didn’t need the police. They’re going to wake up the entire neighborhood. What did you tell James?”